The Final Time
by splashdown
Summary: Ginny Weasley had been in love before. But then he broke her heart, and she vowed never to love again. DracoGinny oneshot.


So I wrote this months ago over at the dgficexchange community on livejournal for spiffthegirl, who asked for angsty humor with the element of Ginny trying to get over Harry. It's Draco/Ginny (in case you hadn't realized) with a little bit of fluff at the end.

**The Final Time**

Ginny Weasley had been in love before.

The first time, she gave her heart away to a boy with thick black hair that jutted every which way, a boy with strikingly bright green eyes behind rimmed glasses that were taped in the middle, a boy with a clear lightning bolt scar in the middle of his forehead. She gave her heart away at the age of ten, and it was beautiful.

The second time she was in love, she was eleven. This time she gave her soul to a boy of forever sixteen, one with smooth black hair and piercing dark eyes and an elegance she had known not. He had used her, and she had let him because being used was being wanted, and being wanted was being something, and didn't everyone want to be something?

The third time happened when she was twelve. Her prey was her hero, her savior, the reason she woke every morning, the reason she breathed, the reason she lived. He had saved her from the depths of destruction and brought her back to life, and she was forever in his debt, just as he was forever in her heart.

The fourth time she fell, she fell hard. She had told herself that he meant nothing, and that she meant nothing, and that they would mean nothing together for always and ever. But then he had kissed her, and everything made sense. This was right, this was real, and this was love. But then he broke her heart, and she vowed never to love again.

She hoped Harry fell. And that was all there was to it.

She watched as he dove closer and closer to the ground on his Firebolt, his hair neatening in the wind, his fingers outstretched in attempts to catch the little gold shimmer of hope that was just out of his grasp.

It was the middle of the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. Everyone stopped as Harry sped on his broomstick, flatter and flatter and lower and lower and faster and faster. Ginny knew what everyone was thinking: Catch the Snitch, Potter! Oh, do be careful! You're so brave, Harry!

Ginny rolled her eyes at these chants and wished he'd hurry up and catch the Snitch already. She was cold and she was hungry and she was everything and more. But mostly, she was tired, tired of having to pretend that she was alright, tired of having to act as if her life hadn't been uprooted by an act of so-called heroism.

_I hope he falls_, she thought bitterly, her eyes narrowed as they followed Harry's every movement. And then he caught the flying little orb.

"Bugger!" she muttered before landing and dismounting her own broom. She watched as the rest of the team walked toward Harry, ready for an end-of-practice pep talk. Ginny shook her head and entered the changing rooms, not able to bear sitting through another one of Harry's dull speeches, avoiding eye contact and acting as normal as possible.

She dressed quickly and exited before the rest of team had entered. This was how she liked it, her – always on the go, and everyone else – always following but never able to catch up. It made her feel powerful.

She walked slowly and purposefully toward the lake, not ready to go inside and face the rest of the school just yet. As she came upon the calm waters, she noticed a boy – not just any boy, of course, but none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Great," she muttered, but decided not to turn around because facing one was much better than facing, well, _more_ than one.

Draco looked up at the sound of crunching leaves and sneered unconsciously. He liked to sneer; it was a fine part of his everyday routine (wake, shower, dress, sneer, class, raise eyebrow, lunch, class, sneer, class, sneer, sneer, scare first years, dinner, sneer, homework, sleep). He felt as though it kept him well balanced.

"What are _you_ doing here, Weasley?" he asked roughly, not daring to hide the malice in his voice.

"Thinking about drowning myself, actually," she responded, throwing a murderous glare in his direction as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark cloak.

"Ahh, nothing like casual suicide on a brisk, autumn day," he replied sarcastically. "I'd leave you alone to your death, but I think this might essentially be the best moment in my already fully-enriched social life."

When she didn't respond, he chanced a look at her and noticed the sullen expression on her usually happy face. "You know," he said as casually as possible. "Drowning yourself at this time of day wouldn't be the most honorable way to go out, and being that you are one of those sodding _Gryffindor_ types, maybe you should think of other more enticing ways of killing yourself."

She glanced at him with skepticism coating her face.

He continued. "Like, flying into a building on your broomstick, for one. I mean, let's face it, Weasley; you are hardly an acceptable flyer. People would probably think that it was a malfunction of your... your... can you _call_ that a broomstick?" She glared at him, dark chocolate versus intense silver, and he put his hands up. "Okay, or, _or_ it could be called an accident, so your Brave Gryffindor Stature would still be upheld."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at his words and questioned her reason for letting this conversation continue.

"You raised an eyebrow at me!" he called out, pointing a finger at her face. He paused and considered what he saw before him. "That was actually not _half_ bad, Weasley."

This time she raised both eyebrows and asked an incredulous, "What?" before shaking her head and continuing. "Why are you even _talking_ to me, Malfoy? All you ever do is spout off insults about my family anyway, so what's it to _you_ why I'm here in the first place?" She bent down and picked up a stone in front of her as her ginger hair fell across her face. She pushed it back behind her ears while feeling the stone for juts in its exterior, but found nothing except extreme smoothness.

He judged her words for a moment before replying. "You're an angry little girl, did you know that?"

"And you're a selfish, mind-boggling prat. What of it, Malfoy?" she retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

"Touché," was all he could say, and silence enveloped them.

"Urgh!" Ginny suddenly screamed out, kicking the worn-down grass underneath her foot.

"_Again_ with the anger!" Draco bit out, throwing his hands up. "What _is_ it with you, Weasley? Break one of your little dolls?"

Ginny turned to face him and shouted, "For your information, Draco, I don't have any dolls!" She crossed her arms over her chest and let out an angry sigh.

"Huh," he shrugged, placing his hands into his pockets. He thought for a moment before realizing everything. "Wait, is this about _Potter_?" he asked incredulously.

She glared at him and muttered, "I don't want to talk about it." She widened her eyes as Draco began to laugh, so silently that it seemed as though he was having a seizure.

"_What_ is your _problem?_" she asked loudly, throwing the rock she had been holding at him. It hit him square in the shoulder.

"Ow," he said bitterly, rubbing his shoulder and creasing his brow. "It's just that, I didn't think that anyone on Potter's side could be so _irritated._ Aren't you all do-good advocates, anyway? Don't you have a secret club with secret meetings and a secret handshake?"

"Maybe," she replied sarcastically. "Why, do you want to join?"

"Do I get a free t-shirt?" he asked in fake excitement.

She shook her head and laughed as she bent over and retrieved another stone from the cold earth floor. "We're not all best mates forever, if that's what you're implying. You're not blood brothers with Peter Pettigrew, are you?"

"Well, actually," Draco implied, smirking as Ginny rolled her eyes. "But Potter's a bumbling idiot, not to mention—"

"The love of your life?" Ginny asked seriously.

"Yes, that too," Draco replied carelessly, not realizing what Ginny had asked until after he'd spoken. "What, no!" he retorted. "What did you say?"

"It's alright, Malfoy," Ginny responded soothingly. "Your secret is safe with me." She smiled ruefully and turned her attention back to the lake.

"I think I'm going to kill myself," he said flatly, covering his face with his hand.  
"Well, for your sake, I hope it's slow and agonizing, but I'm sure Harry will hold your hand whilst it happens to lessen the pain," she replied cynically as she threw a stone onto the lake and watched it skip skip skip skip before plummeting into the water. She was suddenly too cold and began to turn around to head back into the warmth of the castle.

"Your moral outrage is duly noted," he quickly retorted as he also turned to go inside. When she raised another eyebrow at his movements, he shrugged. "Dinner," he responded. "Might as well have one final decent meal before my farewell to this cruel world." He smirked at her, cold hatred turned into deceitful amusement bleeding into betrayed affection.

An easy silence fell upon them as they walked around the lake and up toward the shining lights of Hogwarts. Ginny felt somewhat lighter, freer than she had been in the past couple days or weeks or months or however long it had been (she had lost count).  
"You know, Malfoy," Ginny said casually, turning her gaze toward Draco. "If you do intend to kill yourself, please let me know in advance so I can clear out my schedule to watch. It could be a life-altering event, and I wouldn't want to miss out on the fun."

"You know what they say. One man's spilled blood is another woman's miraculous plight into happiness," he responded lightly. "Well, fear not, Weasley! I won't let you down."

The fifth time Ginny fell in love, she was sixteen. He had perfect blonde hair with cruel gray eyes and a smirk so beautiful, it flawed him. She was fire and he was ice, and together they took on a world that was so dark and so spiteful. And together they beat it.

That was the final time she fell in love. It was the last time she needed to.


End file.
